Poem by William Barnes

First Collection. Sundry Pieces. The Farmer’s Woldest Dā’ter

No, no! I ben’t a-runnèn down
The pretty maïden’s o’ the town,
 Nor wishèn o’m noo harm;
But she that I would marry vu’st,
To sheäre my good luck or my crust,
 ’S a-bred up at a farm.
In town, a maïd do zee mwore life,
 An’ I don’t under-reäte her;
But ten to woone the sprackest wife
 ’S a farmer’s woldest dā’ter.

Vor she do veed, wi’ tender ceäre,
The little woones, an’ peärt their heäir,
 An’ keep em neat an’ pirty;
An’ keep the saucy little chaps
O’ bwoys in trim wi’ dreats an’ slaps,
 When they be wild an’ dirty.
Zoo if you’d have a bus’lèn wife,
 An’ childern well look’d after,
The maïd to help ye all drough life
 ’S a farmer’s woldest dā’ter.

An’ she can iorn up an’ vwold
A book o’ clothes wi’ young or wold,
 An’ zalt an’ roll the butter;
An’ meäke brown bread, an’ elder wine,
An’ zalt down meat in pans o’ brine,
 An’ do what you can put her.
Zoo if you’ve wherewi’, an’ would vind
 A wife wo’th lookèn ā’ter,
Goo an’ get a farmer in the mind
 To gi’e ye his woldest dā’ter.

Her heart’s so innocent an’ kind,
She idden thoughtless, but do mind
 Her mother an’ her duty;
An’ livèn blushes, that do spread
Upon her healthy feäce o’ red,
 Do heighten all her beauty;
So quick’s a bird, so neat’s a cat,
 So cheerful in her neätur,
The best o’ maïdens to come at
 ’S a farmer’s woldest dā’ter.

1. Second Collection. The Linden on the Lawn
2. Second Collection. When Birds be Still
3. First Collection. Summer. Week’s End in Zummer, in the Wold Vo’k’s Time
4. Second Collection. I know Who
5. Third Collection. Went vrom Hwome

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